


La Luce Dei Miei Occhi

by starkerchemistry (orphan_account)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Italian Tony au, M/M, Precious Peter Parker, Study abroad au, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 14:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/starkerchemistry
Summary: Tony's retired and in Italy, and it's there he meets adorable Peter Parker





	1. Sogni d'oro

Peter’s been here for seven days, and if he gets lost one more fucking time, he’s going to lose his shit. He wishes he could have taken up May on her offer of getting him a roaming data plan because he’d kill to be able to Google Maps this shit right now, but he knows she can’t afford it with how much NYU’s tuition is. Besides, everyone had told him the Florence campus was really small, and “don’t worry, you’ll learn how to navigate the city in no time, you’ll see!” Well, he’s gotten lost more times than he can count, he misses his friends, he’s somehow still jetlagged, it’s a bajillion degrees, and all he wants to do is go home and take a fucking nap. He needs directions, and he needs them now. He eventually decides to go to a nearby café or something, grab a snack and hopefully, find someone who speaks enough English to give him directions.

He sees a cute little café, _Maria’s_ , down the street. He hasn’t been there yet, and it sounds American enough that he may find someone who can help him. He opens the door, and it makes that cute jingling noise. It’s pretty small on the inside, but it’s way nicer than some of the cafés he’s seen, and he gets caught up in observing his surroundings. He doesn’t notice the person at the counter turn around, taken aback when they say, “Hey, can I help you, kid?” He turns around, the “oh, thank God you speak English” getting stuck in his throat when he comes face to face with _Tony. fucking, Stark._ And he just stands there like a dumbass, gaping like a fish and blinking like a butterfly, unable to process the _sheer perfection_ staring him in the face. He finally manages to gather his wits about him, only to realize Tony’s staring at him with amusement painted plain across his face, and he blushes scarlet as he realizes how obvious his staring was.

“Christ, I’m sorry, I’m just so happy I found someone who speaks English. W-what, uhm, what did you say?”

“I asked if there was anything I could help you with, bambino.” **_Jesus Christ_** _, he speaks Italian. And that smile. God, could he get any more perfect?_

“I h-hate to be a bother, Mr. Stark, but, um, I’m actually, uh, kinda lost? I could use some directions. And it’s also really hot outside? So an ice coffee would be great too.”

“Oh, so you do know who I am? I thought you were just awe struck by my rugged good looks. An ice coffee coming up, and where do you need directions to, tesoro?” _Holy shit, someone help, I’m about to melt through the floor._

“Of course I know who you are, Mr. Stark. Everyone knows who you are. I nearly cried when you retired.” It’s only then Peter realizes what the man had said next, and he fumbles, unsure how to continue. “And, uhm, well… you are – I mean it’s not like you’re – it’s just that…”

Tony takes pity on the kid, enjoying the pink dusting the boy’s cheeks, but he doesn’t want the kid to pass out. “I know, bambino. Just messing with you.” And the pink in the boy’s cheeks gets darker at the endearment, and yeah, he’s going to have so much fun with this kid. “What’s you name, sweetheart?”

 _One more endearment and I may literally die. Satan deliver me._ “Peter, sir. Peter Parker”

Tony gulps, the breathy way the “sir” falls from the boy’s lips going straight to his dick. “And how old are you, Pete?”

“Nineteen, sir.”

“Okay okay, stop with the sir and Mr. Stark, Tony is fine.” Tony turns around towards the coffee machine and adds ice to a cup before pouring Peter’s coffee. “Here you go, sweetheart. You in a rush? Or do you wanna give this old man some company? It’s not exactly the busiest right now, as you can see.”

It’s only then that Peter realizes Tony is right, and that there’s no one else inside the café. Now that he knows, he has to make a serious effort to quell the illicit scenarios that invade his thoughts. “N-no rush si-, I mean, Tony, I’m not in a hurry.”

Tony knows he shouldn’t feel the flash of regret that he does when the boy cuts off the sir mid-sentence, but he does. He quickly leans behind the counter in an effort to hide his reaction from the boy, and blindly grabs a pastry to give him. “Here tesoro, have a…” He looks down blankly into his hands, no idea what he’s holding. “A cannoli! My mamma’s secret recipe. You haven’t lived until you’ve had one of these.”

Peter considers it, the dessert looks positively delicious ( _so does the man holding i- **no, not going there Peter**_ ) but he’s on a pretty tight budget and… what the fuck, fours euros for a cannoli? What do they have in them, _gold_? “Yes, sweetheart, they do actually. Gold flakes,” Peter hears Tony respond with a laugh, and fuck he could just die right now.

“Oh, sorry Mr.Sta- I mean, Tony, I didn’t mean to offend you, I just… I’m kinda on a tight budget? And I can’t afford to spend four euros on a cannoli.”

 _This kid is too cute for words_. “On the house, bambino. Coffee too.”

“Oh, Mr. Stark, I couldn’t possibly-“

“Yeah, you can actually. You forgotten who I am? Who’s café your standing in? I can pretty much do whatever I want. So take the cannoli and the coffee and let’s go sit outside so I can get to know you better.” Tony cuts him off with a wink, and so Peter does the only thing he can. He accepts, and the move to a table just outside the door of the café. It has a huge umbrella over it, which leaving them in the shade, which, thank God, because the last thing Peter needs right now is to get sunburnt in front of the sexy man he’s only ever dreamed of meeting.

“So passerotto, where’d you need directions too?”

Peter really wishes he could fight the blush rising to his cheeks, but he can’t, and he can tell by the look in the older man’s eyes that he sees it too, and that just makes him blush harder. “the NYU Florence campus, sir.”

Tony whistles, “NYU huh? Whatcha studying?”

“Biochemical engineering. We were actually studying some of your stuff in class last semester. Huge fan of your work.”

Tony raises an eyebrow at that, because the kid said he was nineteen, and if they covered his research last year… “Last year? As in when you were a freshman?”

Peter misses the incredulity in Tony’s question, answering with a simple “yup!” before raising the dessert to his mouth to take a bite.

Tony barely manages to swallow a curse at the image in front of him, because _God_ , he really should have thought about what it would have been like to see those pretty pink lips stretch to accommodate the pastry and _fuck, stop thinking about that before you get a hardon even your apron can’t hide._ He blames what he says next on the distracting sight in front if him, because he swears he didn’t mean to say it out loud, “shit, only eighteen and you understood what I was talking about in those papers anyway? Damn, tesoro, not just a pretty face, huh?”

There’s no conceivable way Peter can hold it back then, flushing red to the tips of his ears and steadfastly refusing to make eye contact with Tony because _shit, shit, shit Tony Stark just called me **pretty.**_

 Tony’s not taking it back, because truer words have never been spoken, but he knows the poor boy’s uncomfortable, so he takes some pity and asks, “how’d you get lost in the first place, sweetheart? Couldn’t you just Google it?”

“Well, I don’t actually have any data roaming? It was, _ahem_ , it was too expensive for me and my aunt to afford.”

“I feel you, kid.” Tony doesn’t feel him, never having heard the word too expensive in his life, and the dubious look Peter shoots in his direction tells him the kid knows its bullshit. He doesn’t give the young man a chance to call him out on it though, asking “what company’s your phone plan with?”

Peter’s unsure why the man even cares, but answers dutifully nonetheless, “Verizon, Mr. Stark.” All he receives is a thoughtful hum in response, and they move on, Tony questioning him about his likes and dislikes, his friends, his family, science stuff he’s interested in. The man asks if he has an internship this semester, and when he says no, the man offers him one in his lab. “No way, Mr. Stark. You’re joking!”

“I’m dead serious, kid! You seem plenty smart, and like I said, I get lonely sometimes. I’d love your company, and you’d get something cool to put down on your resume. Unless you’re gonna be busy with classes?”

As if Peter would pick his classwork over spending time with this man that could give the statue of David. “No, sir, I’m taking all electives this semester, because I didn’t wanna have to spend too much time studying. Wanted to be able to explore, so yeah, I’d love to help you out in the lab sometime! If you’re sure it’s no bother, that is.”

“No bother, Pete. Promise.” And Peter just shoots a shy smile in his direction, and Tony smiles back, and they sit there for a while, just staring and smiling, both caught up in analysing the perfection of the person in front of them, basking in the late afternoon Italian sun.

Peter’s the one who breaks eye contact first, checking the time on his phone before he reluctantly pushes his chair back, rising with a, “I should probably go, Mr. Stark. My Aunt May’s gonna expect me to FaceTime her soon.”

Tony feels irrationally sad when the boy says he has to leave, because _of course he does, Stark, get a grip. He’s not yours to **keep.**_

“Okay, _bambino._ Here, pass that phone of yours to me a second.” The boy does so, albeit with a questioning look on his face, but Tony doesn’t pay that any mind. He’s preoccupied with the phone, because _what ancient model is this even? Forget Google Maps, can this thing still make calls?_. He makes a mental note to give the kid an upgrade when he sees him next, because he will be seeing this boy again, even if it’s the last thing he ever does. He punches him number in under orsacchiotto before handing it back to Peter, who seems frozen when he first sees it ( _because, **hello** , Tony fucking Stark just saved his **personal phone number in my phone under a super cute Italian nickname omg omg om-)**_. “Shoot me a text when you wanna come by the lab. I’ll be sure to be home.” They part with a wave and a smile, Tony telling the boy he just has to go up the street, make the first two lefts and then a right and he should be home. The kid hasn’t even made it down the street and he misses him already, and part of him asks what it’s going to be like at the end of the semester, but he pushes the thought aside. That’s to worry about later. Right now he has a phone company to call.

*

When Peter sees the text from Verizon later that night letting him know that data roaming has been added to his phone plan and he’s _free to start surfing the web at no extra cost_ , his first thought is _damn it, I shouldn’t have told May I got lost today._ But when he makes the call to have the addition cancelled, the agent informs him it wasn’t May Parker, but a Mr. Anthony Edward Stark who has asked for the addition. When Peter asks him to cancel it anyway, the agent informs him there’s a note on the account that the man left strict instructions to do no such thing. When he sarcastically asks, “what, are you gonna get fired or something?” the agent very seriously lets him know that _yes, Mr. Stark is actually my boss’s boss’s boss’s boss, and I could, indeed, be fired for doing so, now would that be all, or is there anything else I can help you with today sir?_. Peter hangs up with a faint “no, thank you,” fingers pressing Tony’s contact in his phone before he even knows what he’s doing. The man picks up in the first few rings and suddenly he’s panicking because _fuck what the hell am I supposed to say, Jesus why didn’t you plan this better Parker-_

“Peter? Is that you?”

He lets out an embarrassing squeak at that, because not only did he just _randomly call Tony fucking Stark,_ he’s now also been breathing into the phone for five minutes like a complete idiot and shit maybe he should answer, “h-hi Mr. Stark! Yeah, it’s me! Peter, Peter Parker.” _Smooth, Parker._

Tony just chuckles on the other end of the line, and God, how does he sound so sexy _even on the phone_? Life is so unfair. It’s when the other man casually asks what’s up that he remembers he called for a reason, and before he can think about how _extremely rude_ what he’s about to say next is, he’s blurting out “Did you buy a whole phone company just to get me a data plan, Mr. Stark?”

Tony’s a little taken aback, because he didn’t think the kid could manage to sound so aggressive, but he recovers quickly enough, responding with a “yes I did, Mr. Parker. Problem?”

The boy sputters at that because, “problem?! Yes, that _is_ a problem Mr. Stark. You, I mean, it’s just – y-you can’t just do things like that!”

“We had this discussion earlier today, sweetheart, and I think you’ll find that considering who I am, I can do just about whatever it is that I like, and what I’d like right now is for you to use the data next time you get lost. Can’t risk having you walk into another café and charm another poor, unsuspecting owner, can I?”

Peter’s floored, he literally has no idea what else to say besides a faint “thank you”, because _ohmygod, Tony Stark thinks I’m **charming.**_

Tony, extremely pleased by the boy’s speechlessness, graciously accepts the thanks before adding, almost as an afterthought, “yenno, I almost backed out at the last second, tesoro. Thought maybe if you get lost more often, you might keep coming to see me. You’ll still come see me, right angel? Wouldn’t leave a sad old man hanging, would you bambino?”

“Of course not, Mr. Stark!” Peter hates the idea of not seeing Tony again so much he can’t even stand to joke about it. “And for the love of God, stop calling yourself sad and old. You’re not sad, and you’re sure as shit not old!”

He hears the amusement in the older man’s faint, “thank you, sweetheart,” and there’s so much genuine happiness to be heard in the statement that Peter can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed by his outburst. They talk for a little while, Tony asking Peter about the rest of his day and vice versa. Peter eventually lets out a *small* yawn, and Tony has him confessing to his jet lag with a “don’t lie to me, caro,” and Peter’s so distracted by the new endearment that he can’t even bring himself to be mad when Tony uses the information against him and to forcefully wish him a goodnight before hanging up, insisting that he get some rest. He falls asleep that night with images of sandy Italian beaches and gorgeous Italian sunsets, enjoying everything Italy has to offer wrapped in the arms of the gorgeous older man he met today, and he wakes up feeling more rested and rejuvenated than he has in a long time.

**

It’s a Friday morning in late September, and Tony’s setting up the chairs and tables outside of the café, getting ready to start the day. He hears a faint “hey, Mr. Stark!” and turns around to see Peter walk down the street, the most adorable smile stretching across those pretty pink lips, and _Christ what I would give to lick one of those dimples._ He’s helpless to mitigate the smile that covers his face, the flood of happiness at seeing the younger man something he can’t control, doesn’t even want to, when the smile on the boy’s face lets him know he feels the same way. Tony jokes about being lonely with Peter sometimes, but the truth is, he kinda is. He’s made a life for himself in this little town, has a few friends, likes to help out the old folks near his home when he can, but he does sometimes miss the life he had built for himself in America.

And then he met Peter, and _Jesus_ , the kid is a ray of sunshine, so wholesome and pure, radiating goodness from the very cells that make up his being. He’s spent a lot of time with the kid over the past five weeks (way more, now that he thinks about it, than he probably should’ve. _Has the kid not made friends yet?_ ), and he gets to know the kid a lot better. Knows he didn’t have the easiest life growing up, losing his parents at such a young age and his Uncle Ben just a few years ago. It’s been tough for him and his Aunt, struggling to pay the bills out of their small apartment in Queens. Tony also knows the kid is working two part-time jobs at school, taking six classes a semester so he can graduate early, and the only way he managed to afford to come to Florence was because of the additional financial aid NYU has for kids who go abroad. And despite all of it, _through_ all of it, the kid’s always ready with a blindingly-bright smile, or enthusiastic words, and _God_ , just has so much life inside of him that sometimes Tony doesn’t know if he envies or admires the boy. Peter’s s so intelligent too, keeps up in the lab with Tony no problem, sometimes even pointing out mistakes in his code or in his wiring, and he doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve him, but Peter Parker is definitely the best thing to happen to him in a long while and he’s going to cherish every precious moment with him.

As the kid gets closer, he realizes that the blinding white of those coltish legs wasn’t a pair of pants that he couldn’t see from far away, but miles of the pale, _gorgeous_ , porcelain skin of the boy’s legs. Peter’s wearing a pair of shorts so small Tony thinks they’d be better of being called underwear. He sees the blush dusting the kid’s cheeks, knows he’s been caught staring, but he can’t help the words as they fall from his mouth anyway, “ _Jesus Christ_ , tesoro. Did you forget to put on a pair of pants over your underwear?” He’s mildly horrified by the words, hoping he hasn’t offended Peter, but all that exposed skin is doing weird things to his brain, shutting off his most basic functions, including, apparently, his filter.

Peter can feel that his skin is basically the colour of the tomato, he knew this was coming, and even though part of him is flattered by the older man’s obvious appreciation, he can’t help worrying Tony may think he’s trying to seduce him or something, so he rushes to explain. “So, basically, what, uhm, happened was that, uh – IshrunktheseinthewashthefirstweekIgothereandthenIdidn’tdomylaundryovertheweekendandIdidn’thavetimeduringtheweekand-“

“Woah, caro _._ Slow down, take a breath, I can barely understand you.”

And now Peter is definitely blushing a brighter red. “I said, what happened was that, I shrunk these shorts in the wash the first week I got here, and I didn’t do my laundry over the weekend, and I didn’t make time during the week either, and these were the only clean pair of pants I had. So, uhm yeah.”

The boy ends with a cute little shrug of his shoulders, and Tony has to will the saliva to re-enter his mouth so he can formulate a response that isn’t an incoherent jumble of words. He eventually settles on an eloquent, “oh, okay,” before continuing, asking, “what’re you doing here so early on a Friday, sweetheart? Don’t you have friends to hang out with, places you wanna go explore? You’re in Italia, after all.”

Peter has made friends, they’re actually planning on leaving for Rome later tonight, and he tells the older man as much. He’s pretty sure he imagines the shadow that passes across Tony’s face, because the man answers with a cheerful, “glad to hear it, Pete!”

And he knows it he shouldn’t feel it, the flash of disappointment he experiences whenever the man uses his real name instead of an endearment, but a part of him messes the sweet words every time. He distracts himself by answering the other man’s question, hesitant that he’ll say no when he asks, “actually, Mr. Stark, I, uh, sorta needed help with something? We’re required to take Italian wile we’re here, and the first couple weeks were really easy, but now we’re getting into verb tenses and stuff and like, I’m really bad with languages, but I need to get an A in this class so it can boost my GPA, and I was wondering, if, uhm, you could maybe help me?” He trails off at the end, unsure if Tony even heard the end of his question, but the small smirk on the man’s lips lets him know that he has, and Peter can’t help but flush a little in response, because _the things those lips do to him, Holy Mother of God_.

“Sure, tesoro _._ I got time to kill. Pull up a chair and show me what you need help with, hm?” And they pass away the better part of the morning huddled over the table, Tony answering each question the young man asks with patience no matter if it’s the first or the fifth time he’s asking. He offers reassurances to the kid, _No, you’re doing great,_ and _See! Not so bad after all_. They take little breaks in between, either for Tony to serve the few customers that come by or for him to make the cute little sandwiches he always does when Peter’s here at this time.

Peter watches him flit around the café with a small smile on his face, because of all the photos and videos he’d seen (read: obsessed over) of Tony Stark over the years, he’s never seen the man smile this wide or laugh this loud, full of genuine warmth as he interacts with his customers. It helps that he mostly speaks Italian with almost everyone that comes by, Peter getting some practice at picking up small phrases here and there. _Yeah, helps with learning the language or helps with the hardon in your pants, Parker?_

Both of them get so caught up in each other during the latest lull in between customers, exchanging smiles and words and mildly flirtatious glances that they fail to see the dark clouds gathering over head. It isn’t until they feel the first drops of light rain that quickly becomes a downpour that they spring into action, Peter quickly stuffing his books into his bag before helping Tony move the delicate chairs and tables inside lest they get ruined in the summer storm. They’re both soaked by the time they get everything inside, making their way up to the small space Tony has above the office, falling onto the sofa before collapsing into giggles at how ridiculous the other person looks, drenched to the bone.

“Christo, I haven’t seen a summer storm in a while. I don’t have any towels or spare clothes hear, but let me turn on the fire, it’s the only chance we have a staying warm.” As Tony gets up to start the electric fire, Peter cant help but admire the way the man’s wet t-shirt clings to his muscles in all the right places, damp jeans doing amazing things for his legs. He looks away when he sees his phone screen light up with a text, one of his friends informing him that their bus to Rome has, obviously, been cancelled, but they’ve been refunded the money. He also mentions that he hasn’t seen Peter in the dorms so he hopes he’s somewhere safe and dry. Peter responds with a quick thanks for letting him know about the tickets, and lets the boy know that he is somewhere safe and dry before clicking his phone shut and putting it away.

When he looks up he sees Tony standing up from the fireplace, having successfully lit the fire and turning around to tell the boy to move closer. Peter barely hears him, breath taken at the perfection in front of him, a wet Tony Stark backlit by the orange glow of the fire, towering over him as he sits on the couch, eyes darker and more intense than they usually are, the colours of the fire reflected in a gaze that has Peter rooted to the spot.

The moment feels tenuous, intimacy weeks in the making holding on by a thread, and Tony can only blame the craziness of the weather for the riot of emotions inside of him, as well as what he does next. He reaches his hand out and Peter takes it, and he sits down with his back to the fire, pulling Peter down into his lap. Tony takes his shirt off, mumbling something about getting the cold cloth away from his skin before he gets sick, and Peter follows suit. They sit like that for a while, Peter’s side pressed to his front, both legs thrown over his lap and arms thrown around his neck, buying into Tony’s muttered bullshit about exchanging body heat. He just wants to be able to hold the boy close, and he thinks Peter feels the same way. He has one hand running up and down the boy’s back, the thumb of his other hand rubbing circle’s into the kid’s protruding hip bones. They sit in silence, but it’s comfortable, just the two of them taking solace in one another as the rain thunders down outside.

Tony knew it would happen eventually, when he was warmed up enough and his dick realized just how beautiful the body in his arms really is. He feels himself hardening in his pants, right next to Peter’s hip, and he knows there’s no way the kid doesn’t notice. He prays that he’ll just ignoring it, but his prayers seem to go unanswered as the kid starts to pull away. “Shit, bambino, I’m so sor-“

Peter halts the man mid-sentence with a press of his finger against those sinfully full lips. He’s been wanting to do this for a while, but wasn’t sure how it would be received. He’s over the moon at the evidence that his affection is returned, and so he swings himself over the man’s lap so that he has a knee planted on either side of Tony’s thighs, straddling him. He removes his finger from the older man’s mouth, who seems too confounded with the recent developments to resume his (unnecessary) apologies. He places both his hands on the older man’s chest, willing himself not to get distracted by the warm flesh and thick muscle underneath his palms, pushing against Tony’s chest until he’s lying down, head a safe distance from the fire.

Tony’s breath is stolen from his lungs at the _vision_ above him. Peter, this boy, this _angel_ , straddling him, semi-wet hair flopping into his brown eyes, honey-warm from the fire, pouty lips a bitten-red and pale skin lit with a warm orange glow. His hands automatically reach up to hold the boy’s waist, and his thumbs start rubbing circles into the boy’s hipbones of their own accord. He hears the hitch in Peter’s breath, and _Christ please let this be going where I think it’s going._

Peter didn’t realize his nerves until Tony started caressing his skin, soothing them away. He lowers his head slowly, giving the older man plenty of time to pull away, but he doesn’t, eyes closing above lightly parted lips until Peter gets close enough that he has to close his eyes too, just as his lips come to press against Tony’s.

 _Perfection. Sheer, utter perfection_ , is the only way Tony can think to describe the press of the boy’s soft, full lips against his own. Peter moves hesitantly, unsure of himself despite making the first move, and so Tony takes over the kiss, leading them in a slow, languid press of lips that has them both panting against each other’s mouths when they pull away.

“Is this okay?” Peter whispers.

And Tony can’t hold back the groan that’s been building up in his chest, moving his hand from the boy’s waist to his cheeks, thumbs brushing against his cheekbones as he pulls him back in, a whispered “so much, _so much_ more than okay” against Peter’s mouth before they’re kissing again.

Peter never imagines his first kiss would be anything like this. Tony knows exactly what he’s doing, takes perfect control of the kiss as their mouths moves together, biting at Peter’s lower lip and moving his tongue into Peter’s mouth when the boy lets out a gasp. The stay there, pressed against each other in front of the fire for who knows how long, the simple press of lips and tongue more than enough.

Peter’s teenage libido overrides his desire to take this slow eventually, and he sits up slightly, forcing Tony to move to his elbows to keep their mouth pressed together as he rolls his hips into the press of Tony’s dick underneath him. The man’s moan pulls an answering whimper from him as he presses down harder, the roll of his hips becoming more and more frantic as he chases his release.

Tony moves his hands to the boy’s hips, guiding his movements as he rolls his own hips ups, meeting the boy press for press as they chase their highs together. Peter cums first, whining and whimpering into Tony’s mouth, filing the inside of his underwear with his release. Tony falls over with a growl of his own, thrusting up a few times to ride out the aftershocks of the most powerful orgasm he’s had in a while, before flopping back onto the rug, pulling Peter with him, They lay there, boneless and spent, their heavy breathing drowned out by the rain still pouring down outside.

Tony breaks the silence by letting out a small chuckle, and when Peter lifts his head up from the man’s chest with a question look on his face, Tony just says, “Oh, I was just thinking that I can’t remember the last time I came in my pants like a teenager.” Peter huffs out a laugh at that too, leaning up to press a peck against the older man’s lips before he moves.

Peter’s face tightens into a grimace, and when Tony asks what’s wrong, he just says “my underwear isn’t super comfortable right now.” Tony laughs out loud at that, a deep sounds that sends shivers of pleasure down Peter’s spine, telling the boy to take his pants and underwear off, and he’ll be right back.

Tony makes his way into the café, grabbing two tea towels and wetting them, one for himself and one for Peter. He takes them back upstairs and stands awestruck at the entrance of the office space, because he’s seeing Peter naked for the first time, and it feels like a religious experience. The boy is so gorgeous it _hurts_ , and Tony feels so unbelievably grateful and privileged to be able to see him like this. He passes the towel over to the blushing boy, and it secretly pleases him that Peter’s still blushing after everything they’ve just done. He turns around before puling his pants and underwear off too, wiping himself down before hanging his clothes over the back of the sofa to dry, noticing Peter has already done the same. He scrounges up a blanket from the corner, and lays down in front of the fire before gesturing for Peter to join him under the blanket. “It’s still pouring out there, sweetheart, and I don’t think it’s gonna let up any time soon. You’re just gonna have to spend the night with me.”

Peter can’t believe this is happening. He just did, well, _that_ , with none other than Tony Stark, and now he’s about to get under a blanket with him, _naked_ , above a café in _Italy_ , and _God, what is even Peter’s life right now_. He’s not about to question his good fortune, scrambling over and cuddling up next to Tony, pressing his front against the man’s chest, who throws the blanket over both of them before wrapping an arm around Peter’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer. He wants to rest, feels the call of sleep behind his eyes, but he just needs to know one thing before he can rest. “What that, uhm.. Mr. Stark was it – w-was that good for you, Tony?”

And Tony is struck by the endless well of surprises that is Peter Parker, because he’s asking _legendary playboy_ Tony Stark if he had a good time. Tony doesn’t really know how to convey all that he’s feeling, he’s never been good at this sort of thing, and so he settles for, “it was perfect, bambino. _You_ are perfect. Now sleep, caro. _Sweet dreams._ ”

And Peter closes his eyes with a soft smile on his face, knowing a night of sleep in Tony’s arms is the sweetest dream of all.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day the sunlight streaming in through the window wakes Peter up first. He stretches, back arching into the delicious warmth of Tony behind him. It’s during this stretch that he realizes _ahem_ , the man’s morning wood is very much nestled between his ass cheeks. He doesn’t know how to detangle himself without waking the older man up, because then they’re going to have this whole awkward conversation _and shit Parker, come on, think of something_ – and then Tony is moving behind him, yawning and stretching and _grinding into Peter_ , and suddenly he doesn’t feel the need to move anymore.

Tony quickly takes note of his current predicament, pulling his hips back with a “sorry, bambino. Hasn’t happened in a while, but then again, I haven’t woken up with a sexy young man in my arms in a while, so I can’t exactly blame him.”

Peter flushes at the compliment, and then laughs, unable to help himself, “did you just refer to your dick as a him?” He rolls over in Tony’s arms so he can see the man’s face, grinning wider when he sees the affectionate smile stretching across older man’s face.

“Yes I did, sweetheart.”

“Why?”

“So it would make you smile. And it did.” Tony moves his fingers through the hair just above Peter’s eyes, pushing it out of the way before leaning down to kiss him. He’s self-conscious about his morning breath at first, but the insistent press of Tony’s tongue has him forgetting his insecurity and opening up to the man, who lets out a groan before kissing him deeper.

What was supposed to be a quick peck evolves to a thorough exploration of the other’s mouth, and it’s only when Tony accidentally grinds his now throbbing cock into the younger boy’s that he pulls back with a gasp, a quick “sorry” leaving his mouth.

Peter, having forgotten his nerves entirely in favour of focussing on his aching dick, gasps a breathy “don’t be sorry”, before throwing his head back and grinding back into Tony. Tony can’t help himself, his lips leaving the boy’s pretty mouth in favour of worshipping the creamy skin of his neck, littering little bite marks against his throat before mouthing along his jaw.

The boy grinds harder, breathy _ah ah ah’s_ reminiscent of the night before slipping past his lips, and _God, he’s so fucking **pretty,**_ and Tony’s helpless to do anything but press harder into Peter. He wants to wring every last noise from that sinful mouth, and so he presses a hand into the boy’s back, who arches in response, before bringing his other hand down to loosely fist their cocks together.

At the first brush of Tony’s thumb over the head of his weeping cock, Peter thinks he’s in genuine danger of coming embarrassingly fast. He puts both of his hands on Tony’s cheeks before wrenching the man down for a kiss, and they moan into each other’s mouths at the hot press of lips and teeth and tongue. The older man starts jerking them off more insistently, and he ignores the whine that leaves Peter when he pulls away, moving to trace the shape of the boy’s ear with the tip of his tongue before whispering, “cum for me, principessa. Let go, just let go. I got you. _Cum for me,_ bambino.”

And he pulls back to watch the beautiful picture the boy paints as he cums, milky white covering his quivering chest, eyelashes brushing his cheeks as his eyes close, head thrown back and a whimpered “daddy” leaving his mouth, and _fuck_ if that doesn’t have Tony falling over the edge right after.

Peter freezes, utterly mortified at what just left his mouth, his post-orgasm glow ruined in the wake of his mistake. He’s horrified, worse, he thinks Tony’s horrified, because _yeah, he **is** old enough to be your father but that doesn’t mean he wants you to **remind** him, Parker. God, who told you to watch all that porn? Now Tony Stark thinks you’re a pervert and he’s never going to let you near him again God you’ve ruined everything.._. Tony catches the boy spiraling, hooks a finger under his chin to force Peter to look at him so he knows the utter sincerity behind the words when he says, “that was perfect, caro _. Perfect._ ” And okay, maybe Tony doesn’t think he’s a dirty pervert after all.

Tony presses a quick kiss to Peter’s nose before he’s pulling away, needing to wash away the dried cum covering his hand and his chest, and he knows Peter does too. They grab their clothes and head downstairs, rinsing off quickly with the sink in the small café bathroom.

Neither of them can salvage their underwear, so they both just pull on their pants, or near underwear in Peter’s case, and they head outside. Tony calls his car from the parking garage nearby, and they wait outside on the cobblestone path for it to arrive. He doesn’t even pretend not to bask in Peter’s praise, the awed “wow, a self-driving car! That’s so fucking cool!” has all sorts of ideas flitting through his mind about how exactly he could blow this beautiful boy’s mind.

The car arrives and they both climb into the backseat quickly. Peter fully expects the man to direct the car to make a left at the end of the street so he can drop him off at home, but Tony doesn’t say a word, and they pass the turn. “Uhm, Mr. Stark, where, uh… where are you taking me?"

“Aren’t you coming home with me, bambino? Or were you planning to use this old man to satisfy your needs and then toss him aside?” Tony winks at him so the boy knows he’s joking, but he’s praying to any deity that will listen that this angel will come with him.

“Are you sure sir it’s not a bother, sir?”

“No bother at all tesoro, you should know by now. And now that I’ve had my hand wrapped around your pretty little cock, I think you should _definitely_ call me Tony.” A pretty pink dusts the boy’s cheek, and the show of innocence astounds him. He can’t resist the temptation to continue his teasing, asking “so how many men have had the pleasure of hearing you call them Daddy, bambino?"

Peter chokes on his own spit. _Fuck, okay, apparently we **are** talking about this. Get it together, Parker, don’t choke_. “I, uhm, it’s just that uh –you’reactuallythefirstpersonI’veeverkissedandI’veneveractuallycalledanyoneDaddybefore,itjustsortaslippedout.” _Nice, one, you definitely choked_.

Tony stares at him in shock, the idea that no one has wanted to kiss this precious boy before him is blasphemy, he needs to know _why_. “You’re telling me no one’s ever wanted you like that principessa? Because I find that hard to believe.”

Peter feels the flush underneath his cheeks, and yeah, he’s never going to stop blushing around this man _because now I’m his **princess**_. “I dunno. Maybe they have. But I’ve never cared, never been interested. I’ve never wanted anyone else before. Not like this.”

Tony’s hesitant to ask, but he needs to know, needs clarification. “So you’re saying I’m your first everything, bambino?”

Peter only answers with a shy nod, and _fuck,_ Tony doesn’t know what he did to deserve this gift, but it’s a gift he’s going to cherish forever. He tugs the boy into his lap, arranging his legs so that he’s straddling him, asking “are you sure, sweetheart? That it’s me you want? As you so kindly pointed out, I _am_ old enough to be your father.” He hopes his joking manner doesn’t bely the genuine concern behind the question, because really, he is old enough to be the boy’s father.

 _God, those little winks are going to be the death of him._ He leans down to press his forehead against the older man’s, scared to look him in the eyes, but hoping their closeness will bring the man some comfort. “Yes, Tony, I’m sure. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. This feels so right, being here, with you, like this. Feels like coming home.”

Tony doesn’t even try to hold himself back, one hand cupping the boy’s face and the other tangling in his hair to draw the kid’s mouth closer, leading a slow kiss that turns into another, which turns into another, and they kiss until if feels like they’re drunk on one another, every taste they can get of the other not _enough_ , only fueling the desire, the _need_ , for more. The only thing holding Tony back from fucking him right here is that he wants to make the boy’s first time special, because Peter deserves it, deserves the world and more and Tony’s going to spend the rest of his life trying to deserve _him_.

They shower together when they get home, under the pretense of conserving water, neither one willing nor able to part from the other. There’s nothing sexual about the moment, the soft kisses and wandering hands fit the intimacy of the moment, but it never goes beyond that. Tony gives the boy some of his clothes to wear, and the image of the boy in his clothes more than makes up for the loss of the short shorts. He can’t help himself, can never seem to around this boy, wrapping his arm around Peter’s waist and drawing him in close.

Tony growls out a possessive “ei mio” _‘mine’_ before thoroughly invading Peter’s mouth to show him who he belongs to, and Peter wouldn’t have it any other way.

When they finally pull way, he pants out “io sono tua” _‘only yours’_ against the older man’s mouth, and they stay there, wrapped in an embrace in the middle of the bedroom, content to listen to the heartbeat of the other.

The moment was shattered by Peter’s stomach grumbling embarrassingly loud, so they headed downstairs to the kitchen, where Peter sat on the island, watching Tony and giving him little pecks as the man flitted around the kitchen, putting together pasta from scratch using his mamma’s “famous secret recipe.”

“Does your mamma have a secret recipe for everything?” Peter asked, amused when Tony had told him.

Tony winked over his shoulder, facing the stove as he answered, “why yes she did.”

Peter jumps off the counter, walking up behind Tony and wrapping his arms around the man’s waist, leaning up to press a kiss where Tony’s neck meets his shoulder as he asks, “did she have one for love, too?”

Tony turns the stove off, wiping his hands on the towel before turning around, wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck and pulling the boy in close. Peter lays his head on his chest, and Tony presses a kiss to the kid’s forehead. “No, she didn’t. But I don’t think I need one.”

Peter looks up, a small smile on his face. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because there’s only one ingredient. You, bambino.”

******

Time flies, and before they know it November is fast approaching. Fall is in the air, but nature is desperately clinging onto the last vestiges of summer, and they’re faced with what Peter thinks is this indescribably beautiful weather as it manifests itself in the world around them. The car is driving them down the highway, and he’s cuddled in Tony’s lap, both of them watching the beautiful scenery as it passes by them. They’ve been waiting for this weekend for so long. Peter’s just finished midterms, and doesn’t have anything to worry about for a while, so Tony’s finally taking him to Bergamo, wanting to show him where his family is from.

Their transition into a relationship has been easy, comfortable. Peter can’t remember ever being this happy, this _content_. He’s pulled out of his thoughts with Tony’s finger under his chin, tipping his head up. “What’s wrong?” Peter questioned.

“You were too caught up in your head, tesoro. I missed you.” Tony smiles and leans down for a kiss, pressing his lips softly against the younger boy’s. He pulls away after a few minutes, pressing his forehead against Peter’s, breathing out a, “ti amo, bambino,” _‘I love you’_ against the boy’s mouth.

Peter blushes as he whispers, “ti amo anch’io, daddy” _‘I love you too.’_ He’s never going to get use to it, no matter how many times the older man says it.

 _Tony Stark loves me. And I get to love him too_.

*****

Their first night in the city is beautiful. They leave their things at Tony’s place before biking ten minutes into the heart of the city, where they enjoy dinner before getting some gelato from a place Tony insists has the best gelato in the world. They come across a low wall as they walk down the streets, and Tony gives Peter a leg up, who throws a hand over to help Tony up once he’s settled. They sit there for a while, feeding each other bites of ice cream and swinging their feet as they watch the sunset, Peter nuzzling into Tony’s side as the evening gets chilly.

They come back and just sleep, tired from their journey and the rest of the evening. Peter doesn’t mind, he know they’ll be able to find time to have sex, because he wants to, wants to do this for Tony, _with_ Tony. They haven’t slept together yet, and the older man has been so patient, more than willing to stop  when Peter asks him too, checking in (annoyingly often) to make sure he’s okay with everything they’re doing. But he’s ready now, has felt ready for quite some time, because there’s no one else for him except Tony. Never has been, likely never will be, and he wants to knock down this last wall between them, belong to Tony and have Tony belong to him, both of them ruined for everyone else except each other.

They decided not to go into the city today, Peter wanting to stay and explore the family property. Tony’s more than willing to show the boy around, and so they finally manage to detangle themselves and leave the bed, eat a breakfast so late it’s lunch, and pack a picnic for dinner. Peter’s holding the blanket and he’s holding the basket, and they set out hand in hand down the well-trodden path leading away from his backyard toward land that use to be a farm, but has since become an overgrown meadow. It use to be one of his favourite places when he use to come here when he was younger, he would just lay back and stare at the clouds for hours, thinking of everything and nothing at the same time.

The land is exactly as he remembers it, and after they spread out the blanket Tony lays down and puts his arm out, and Peter places his head on the outstretched arm, tucking himself into Tony’s side. They lay there and watch the clouds as they pass, laughing hysterically as they each try to outdo the other with ridiculous shapes that they see. After a while Peter decides he wants to make Tony a flower crown, and he props his head up on his elbow to watch the younger boy dance around the meadow, reaching for flowers that he thinks are pretty, and Tony is once again awe struck that this darling boy is _his._

They eat dinner after Peter finishes the crown, and he tries not to smile like an idiot just because Tony wears it all throughout dinner. When they finish Tony asks if he wants to pack up, but he says he wants to stay, watch the sun set under the open sky. They’re in the same position as before when Peter begins to mouth at the older man’s jaw, moving the hand that’s on Tony’s chest down to cup the man’s dick, which is hardening rapidly in his grasp. Tony’s groaned, “ _bambino_ ,” has shivers running down his spine, and he reaches to unzip the man’s shorts, both of them moaning in relief when Peter wraps his hand around the throbbing cock.

Tony turns his head and pulls the boy in for a rough, needy kiss. He let’s the kid pull at his dick a few times then bats his hand away, feeling the beginnings of an orgasm already pooling low in his stomach. He grips the base of his cock hard, not wanting this to end before it’s even begun. He sits up over Peter, briefly pulling his lips away to rid themselves of their respective shirts before his tongue is returning to the boy’s mouth. He tears his mouth away eventually, nibbling and sucking marks on the pale column of Peter’s neck before kissing his way down the kid’s chiselled chest. He licks around the boy’s navel once, twice, before he’s reaching to pull those short shorts off and mouth along the fabric of his underwear, teasing the hard cock underneath.

Tony hears Peter whine needily above him, so he take pity, pulling the kid’s underwear off taking the tip of the already leaking cock into his mouth. The boy keens, unable to hold himself back from thrusting into the wet heat of the older man’s mouth, who takes it willingly, eagerly choking himself on Peter’s length. He swallows around him once before licking his way up the shaft, tonguing at the fluid beading at the boy’s slit. He repeats the motion once, twice, sucking the boy’s cock down for the third time when Peter starts babbling. Incoherent pleas have been falling from his mouth since they started, but the boy’s, “fuck me _oh_ , Tony, _fuck me please_!” has him literally choking on the cock in his throat. He pulls off, answering Peter’s whine by wrapping his hand around the kid’s dick, his own spit slicking the way as he jerks him off.

“Are you sure, bambino? Do you know what you’re asking for?”

 _This man_. Peter sits up, placing his hands on either side of Tony’s face, pulling him in close for a lingering kiss before leaning back to whisper, “yes, Daddy, I’m sure. Fuck your bambino, won’t you? I’m asking, _begging_ so pretty. Please fuck me, Daddy.”

Tony groans, helpless in the face of the filthy words falling from the boy’s lips. “If you’re sure tesoro. But, if you need to stop, you just need to say the word, okay caro? I’d never force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I know, daddy. But all I want right now if for you to fuck me. I’m so e-empty, fuck me, _please_.”

“You ask and I deliver, principessa. Sto per darti la miglior scopata della tua vita” _‘I’m going to give you the best fuck of your life.’_ He moves his hand on the floor into the boy’s hair, wrenching his neck back to shove his tongue in that pouty little mouth, bruising those pretty pink lips.

The hand that was jerking Peter off moves down to lightly trace the boy’s hole, his fingertips catching on the dry rim.

Peter pulls back before the man can ask the question, grabbing the picnic basket and digging around the bottom to pull out a small bottle of lube and placing it in Tony’s hand. He feels his cheeks flush when Tony arches an eyebrow, but can’t help the whiny, “please daddy, I _need_ it,” that falls from his mouth.

“Oh, I’m going to ruin you, bambino. Just you wait.” He lays Peter down, pouring the lube onto his right hand before leaning over the sinfully pretty boy, placing most of his weight on his left elbow. He moves his fingers to the boy’s entrance, smirking widely when Peter moans, even though it’s only the tip of his first finger. He slowly fucks the digit in and out, keeping away from the younger man’s prostate to avoid overwhelming him _just_ yet. When he’s moving the finger in and out with little resistance he moves to stretch the boy with two fingers, scissoring them as he finger fucks Peter. He’s actively seeking out the boy’s prostate now, eager to begin reducing him to a moaning, whimpering mess, He knows he’s found it when the boy _wails_ , and he begins moving his fingers in earnest, adding a third when he feels the kid is ready.

Peter is now thoroughly stretched, and begging, loudly, for Tony to fuck him. Tony’s glad his family privatized the land, because if someone walked by they could be arrested for public indecency. He makes quick work of his pants and boxers, just as eager to fuck the boy as he is to be fucked. He leaves Peter laying on his back, even though he might have been more comfortable on his knees for his first time, Tony wants to see him, watch this gorgeous boy fall apart for the first time on his cock. His dick is throbbing at this point, and Peter is outright sobbing, hiccupped tears interspersed with pleas of “ _fuck me daddy, please_.”

He pushes the boy’s knees back to his shoulders, aligning his dick with Peter’s pink, puffy hole. He pauses just before entering him, lightly rubbing the head of his cock back and forth across the boy’s entrance, asking “You sure about this baby boy? Once this happens, there’s no going back. I’m going to ruin this pretty hole for anyone else. You’re going to be _mine_ , bambino.”

Peter whimpers, “’m already yours daddy. A-already ruined for anyone else. Just fuck me, please. Scopami daddy, per favore.” _‘Fuck me daddy, please.’_

Tony pushes into the velvet wet heat below him inch by agonizing inch. The angelic boy below him has tears leaking from the corner of his eyes, streaking his flushed cheeks, and for a second Tony’s worried he’s hurt the boy. “Are you okay, sweetheart? Am I hurting you?"

Peter hurries to shake his head, assuring the older man, “No Daddy, ‘m just so- so _full_. Can’t believe I get to spend my first time with you, God, I love you so much. Happy tears.” He ends with a shaky smile, hoping Tony won’t stop now.

“I love you too, amore. So much more than you could ever know.” He affectionately wipes at the boy’s tears, secretly pleased he’s reduced Peter to tears without having moved.

Peter can’t hold back his pleas at the lack of movement, fucking his hips forward as he begs the older man, “daddy, mo-move, please move.”

Tony begins to fuck in and out of the boy’s hole achingly slow. He pulls out until only the tip of his cock is inside Peter, before pushing in and grinding against him, making sure to hit his sweet spot every time. He’s only repeated the motion a few times before the younger man starts thrashing his head back and forth, whining out a “too slow daddy, too _sl-slow!_ Split me open, tear me apart, G-god, fuck me harder, _please!_ ”

Tony doesn’t hold back after that, slamming into the boy relentlessly, fucking him back and forth on his cock like a toy. Peter takes it, mewls and whimpers interspersing the wet sobs wracking his body and the moans pulled from his mouth. “ _Madre di dio_ bambino, you’re too gorgeous, you look so pretty when you cry. That’s it tesoro, be a good boy, cry for your daddy.”

“Oh, _hnng_ , yes daddy, w-wanna be your good boy. Fucking _own me,_ ruin me for anyone else.”

And Christ, he wanted to take it slow for the boy, make his first time special and romantic, but fuck, he can’t hold back. He changes the angle of his thrusts, smirking victoriously when Peter screams, knowing he’s directly hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves with every stroke. “Good job sweetheart, taking daddy’s dick so well. Found your sweet spot, that’s it, scream for me. Let daddy hear every pretty little sound you can make, principessa.”

All Peter can do is lie there and take it, barely managing to say “daddy, ooh, daddy, I’m, _fuck_ , oh ‘m gonna cum, daddy, gonna cum!”

“Yeah? You’re close, bambino? Cum for daddy just like this, untouched on his cock. You can do that for me, hmm? Yeah? Good job baby, knew you could take it so well, you were made to be fucked. No, don’t close your eyes baby, eyes on me. That’s it, look me in the eyes and come for me, tesoro. Come for daddy before I fuck my load into your perfect little hole." 

And Peter loses it, eyes wide and glassy and full of tears as he screams and his cock spurts cum all the way to his chin, milky white ropes covering his quivering abs and his chest. He feels oversensitive, each thrust of Tony’s cock bordering on painful, but he doesn’t want the man to stop, doesn’t want this pleasure to end. He looks up at Tony, the strain in his face and the rest of his body making it clear that he’s close. Peter wraps his arms around those broad, muscled shoulders, pulling him down until they’re chest to chest. He presses a wet open-mouthed kiss to the man’s pulse point, swipes his tongue across his earlobe and biting down on it softly before whispering in his ear, “C’mon daddy, cum for me. Come for your bambino, fill me up, wanna feel you for days, _please_ daddy, _cum_.” It pushes Tony over the edge, who slams all the way in before letting go, painting his sinfully perfect boy’s walls white.

His vision whites out for a second with the intensity of his orgasm, and when he comes to he realizes Peter is carding his fingers through his hair, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. He hauls himself up with a groan, straightening out onto the blanket next to the boy to avoid crushing him. Peter snuggles into his side, placing his head in the crook of Tony’s neck.

He feels Peter press a kiss to his pulse point, and he turns his neck to kiss the boy’s forehead as he moves his hands through his hair. He’s on the brink of sleep, can feel it calling to him, but before he sleeps he needs his baby boy to know, “Amo solo te, mi amore. Amo solo te” _‘I love only you, my love. Only you.’_

“Amo solo te, daddy” _‘I love only you, daddy’_ Peter whispers, half asleep. 

And they sleep, intertwined under a blanket of stars, two halves of a perfect whole.

******

It’s late November when Peter receives the email:

 _Dear Mr. Parker,_  

_Your appeal for the Global Study Away extension deadline has been reviewed, and your application for another semester at NYU Florence has been accepted. In the future, please keep in mind that we generally fill programs to capacity, and you are very fortunate that some students declined there seats, or your appeal would have been denied._

_I am thrilled that you are enjoying your time abroad and wish to take more time to make the most of your cultural experience. Please pass on our gratitude to your mentor, Mr. Stark. We are grateful for his contributions, and his recommendation greatly assisted us in helping grant your appeal. We hope you make the most of your additional semester with him and return to NYU New York ready to apply everything that you learn from your time with him…_

Peter’s picking up the phone and calling Tony before he’s even made it to the end of the email, though he does see something about tuition payments and declined scholarships and he hears an answering click on the other end of the phone and “What the fuck, Tony?!"

Tony pauses before answering, “Yenno, sweetheart, this is strangely reminiscent of the last time I did something extremely generous and thoughtful for you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were bad at accepting gifts.”

Peter lets out an indignant squawk, “I’m not bad at accepting gifts! You’re just a shitty gift-giver!”

It’s Tony’s turn to be offended, because, “excuse me, tesoro, a shitty gift-giver? None of that money is a gift for you, it’s a gift for me, and I happen to think an excellent gift at that.”

“Giving NYU a generous donation while turning down my scholarship is a gift how, exactly? Because there’s no point in you having done all that if I can’t even afford to fucking be here.”

“ _Bambino_ , that scholarship is for someone who doesn’t have an amazing boyfriend who can afford to pay off the rest of their tuition.”

 _“The rest of my tuition!_ Mi amore, that’s not treating yourself, that’s gluttonous indulgence.”

“I just wanted to do something nice for you, angelo. Just take it, please. Be with me a little longer, before I have to share you with the rest of the world. Per favore, mi amore?” _‘Please, my love?’_

“… You’re impossible. Grazie, daddy. I’m very grateful. Ti amo.” ‘ _I love you.’_

“Ti amo, bambino.”

******

The semester ends and Peter goes home for the holidays. May knows he’s going back to Florence, but she thinks he got a full-ride. She doesn’t know anything about Tony beyond the fact that Peter works with him, and she’s just happy for him, even though she does miss him.

Peter comes back after the holidays, and Tony takes him back to Bergamo during spring break. It’s March and it’s a little cold, but they spend a night in the meadow anyway. They’re lying in the same place where they first made love, and blame it on the nostalgia but Peter can’t help when his thoughts wander to the end of the semester, because he can’t keep spending semester sin Florence if he actually wants to finish his major and graduate.

Tony’s looking out into the night sky, thinking about everything and nothing when he feels the wetness land on his bare skin and realizes Peter’s crying. He tips the boy’s face up with his finger, “che cosa c’é, bambino?” _‘what’s wrong?’_

Peter shakes his head and tries to look away, but Tony won’t let him, and he reluctantly admits. “mi mancherai quando verrà l'estate,” _‘I’m going to miss you when summer comes.'_

“Oh, mi amore _._ ” Tony gathers the boy into his arms, whispering _shh, don’t cry sweetheart,_ and _it’s okay, we’ll figure it out baby_ , running his hands up and down Peter’s back in what he hopes is a comforting motion. Peter’s heaving sobs simmer to soft whimpers until he’s all cried out, and they just lay there in silence, taking comfort in one another.

And then Tony’s sitting up, suddenly (and rudely) jostling Peter from his position tucked into the man’s side. He’s fumbling around in the picnic basket and Peter can’t help but ask, “what on earth, caro?” And then the older man turns around and Peter swears he’s going to start crying again as an audible gasp escapes his mouth and the tears pool in his eyes.

Because in front of him, a devilishly handsome and adorably nervous Tony Stark is getting on one knee with the most beautiful ring in his hands and _fucking pinch me because this is the best dream in the world._

“I know you’re scared for what the end of the semester may mean, angelo. You have to leave, but my life is here, and we don’t know what the future may bring. But I know one thing, mi amore, and that’s I want to spend the rest of my life with you. God, rilli più del sole, della luna e di tutte le stele. ‘ _you shine brighter than the sun, the moon and all the stars’_ You’re the light of my life, bambino. Sei il mio tutto, e non ti lascerò mai andare. _‘my everything, and I’m never letting you go._ ’ You deserve everything this world has to offer and more, and I will spend the rest of my days trying to give it to you. Marry me, mi amore, and make me the happiest man alive. Sposami, per favore? _‘Marry me, please?’_

“Oh God, _of course_ I’ll marry you Tony.” Peter doesn’t even need to think, because this is everything he’s ever wanted, everything he could ever want, nothing could _possibly_ change his mind. He’s smiling uncontrollably and he’s definitely crying, but he’s so _fucking_ _happy_ that he doesn’t ever care.

Even as he’s slipping the ring on Peter’s delicate finger, Tony can’t believe the boy said yes.

“Are you sure, bambino?”

“Tony!”

“I’m just making sure, tesoro.”

“Madre di dio, sei matto“ _‘you’re crazy’_ Of course I’m sure, daddy. There’s no one else I’d rather be with.”

“Come here sweetheart.” Tony grabs the boy by the waist and pulls him on top of him, placing a hand on the boy’s nape and pulling him down for a kiss. It starts off as heated, but neither of them can stop smiling and they’re really exchanging small pecks amongst soft smiles, foreheads pressed together as Peter caresses his _fiancé’s_ cheekbones with his thumbs.

“Amo solo te, mi amore.”

“Amo solo te, bambino.”

******

The summer comes and Peter tells May he’s going on a six week trip across South America with his friends from Florence and she doesn’t question it when he says he’s going to fund the trip with the money he got from the Stark internship.

He and Tony have a great time teaching FRIDAY how to effectively Photoshop his friends into the pictures he and Tony take on their trips, because obviously May’s going to want to see pictures when he gets back.

******

Junior year starts and it’s a rough couple weeks as they adjust to being on separate continents for long periods of time. With everything that happened while he was Iron Man, Peter understands why Tony can’t spend extended periods of time in the city. He doesn’t him to, doesn’t want to subject his fiancé to those painful memories, and so they pass the time by marking dates on their calendars for when they’re making trips to see each other. It’s still mostly Tony who’s flying out to see him, because _hello, retirement_ , and the older man swears to Peter he doesn’t mind the slight panic he experiences if it means getting to spend some time with his sweetheart.

*****

Peter asks Tony to plan an extended trip to the city for Christmas break, and Tony doesn’t understand why, because _won’t you be with your Aunt the whole time_ , but he acquiesces at the boy’s insistence, because at this point, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for this boy, and they both know it.

Peter’s in the car with Happy when they pick him up from JFK, and as distracted as he is by the boys needy kisses, he’s aware enough of their surroundings to know that they’re heading deeper into Queens, not into the city.

“Where are you taking me _,_ angelo?”

Peter finishes sucking the lavish purple bruise he was working onto Tony’s neck before answering, “to meet Aunt May, daddy. If we’re getting married you’re going to have to meet her at some point, right?”

Despite his confident words and upbeat tone, Tony can tell Peter’s worried, anxious that he might say no, and _God_ _this boy is too pure for this world._ He presses a soft kiss to the boy’s mouth before answering, “of course, tesoro. I’d love to meet her.” And Peter’s answering smile is so beautiful that Tony doesn’t even have the heart to ask how the boy thought he would ever say anything but yes, because he doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that gorgeous smile.

May knows that Tony is coming, just not that it’s _Tony_ coming, nor does she know it’s his _fiancé_ Tony Stark that’s coming, and Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous.

It’s really important to him that the two most important people in his life get along, and he really doesn’t want to imagine what will happen if he has to choose. He’d choose Tony in a heart beat, but losing Aunt May would be devastating, and _yeah, this has to go well, because otherwise you’re fucked Parker._ He takes a fortifying breath before unlocking the door and walking in hand-in-hand with Tony, calling out, “Aunt May? We’re here!” And May’s rounding the corner and _shit, fuck,_ he can feel his heart rate accelerating to levels that make it difficult to suck in oxygen, because _fuck, this really might not go well, what am I gonna do-._ But then Tony’s rubbing soothing circles into his hand once, twice before letting go to hug May, who’s greeting the man with a, “welcome, Mr. Stark! I’ve heard so much about you” and the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her face, and Tony’s responding with a, “please, call me Tony,” and an equally large smile on his face, and okay, maybe this isn’t going to go so bad after all.

They’re all sitting around the table, introductions having been made and dinner having been poured. Tony’s sitting next to him at the table and they’re both sitting across from May and they’ve only just started eating when May starts asking the hard hitting questions, beginning with “so, how serious are you about my boy, Tony?”

Peter chokes on his food, squawking “May!” as Tony gently places some water in his hands and rubs small circles into his back. When his face has returned to a normal colour and he doesn’t feel like he’s going to die, Tony shoots a small wink his way before grabbing his hand under the table and turning to May.

“Well, I’m planning on marrying him, so I’d say pretty serious.” He shoots May a cheeky smile and Peter feels like he’s going to die all over again, because he never actually told May they were getting married, and he never told Tony that May didn’t know and now she’s just told him that and they’re both looking at him and _Satan, take me now_.

“Pete? You never told me you were _engaged_. Just that you wanted to introduce me to someone.”

“I, uhm, yeah, yenno I- funny thing is… sorry, May?” And she doesn’t look too mad, and Tony just looks like he’s about to laugh and maybe there’s still hope to salvage the situation yet.

“You got _engaged_ to the to guy without introducing us, Pete! I’m hurt. What if I hadn’t liked him?”

Tony cuts Peter off before he has a chance to say anything. “No chance of that May. Everyone likes me. This package is pretty hard to resist”

“That so, Stark? Well, I’m a little harder to convince than most. You retired to Italy, right? You gonna buy me a house in Italy?”

“May!”

Peter’s about to intervene on Tony’s behalf when Tony cuts him off again as he answers,

“’Course, May. I’ll buy you a house in every major city in the world.”

Peter looks at May and she nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Good. ‘Cause Peter’s worth it.”

Tony doesn’t even glance at May when he answers this time, still staring at Peter as he answers, “he’s worth it all and more, I know, trust me. He’s worth _everything_.”

Tony excuses himself to use the bathroom before dessert, and Peter’s taken by surprise when May volunteers from across the table, “I like him.”

Peter chances a look at her, tentatively asking, “yeah? You don’t care that he’s older?"

A soft smile spreads across her face as she answers, “no. Because I see the way you look at him.”

“How’s that?” asks Peter, intrigued.

“Like your mother use to look at your father.”

“Oh… and that’s a good thing?” At May’s firm nod he continues “… and does he, yenno, look at me the same way?”

“No.” But before Peter’s heart breaks into a million pieces she’s adding, “he looks at you the way your Uncle Ben use to look at me.” She shoots him a small wink as Tony makes his way back to the table and together they celebrate the greatest Christmas Peter’s had in a long time.

******

Tony and May are definitely some of the most embarrassing people at commencement, which is saying something, because there’s a shit ton of people in Yankee Stadium and he shouldn’t even be able to tell that they’re there. Ned and MJ are equally as loud and yeah, they’re embarrassing, but they’re his family, and he’s really going to miss them when he moves.

Tony’s moving _Maria’s_ to Bergamo, and they’re going to live in his family home while Peter gets his Master’s at Politecnico di Milano, and while he’s ecstatic that he can finally stop missing Tony all the time, he’s still leaving behind the people he grew up with. Realistically, he knows he can fly back literally whenever he wants to, but it’s not going to be the same, and so he’s going to cherish these moments while he has them.

So when they’re cheering obnoxiously loud as he crosses the stage, and sharing the most embarrassing stories of him as a kid while Tony’s laughing his ass off, Peter takes it with a smile, because these are his people, and he’s going to cherish every moment he has with them.

******

They get married the summer after Peter gets his Masters, and it’s everything he could have hoped for and more. It’s a small ceremony, maybe fifty people at most, a combination of their loved ones from their separate pasts and joint present.

They have the ceremony in their backyard, and Peter’s best friend at Politecnico, Elio, and his boyfriend Oliver officiate the ceremony together. Peter and Tony both wrote their own vows, and by the time they kiss everyone’s sobbing, including them, and they can taste their own tears on the other’s lips and neither of them can stop smiling because they can’t remember the last time they were this. fucking. happy.

It’s later on during the reception that Peter loses Tony. One minute the man’s standing next to him and the next second he’s disappeared. He starts walking around the garden, stopping to greet people and thank them for coming, casually inquiring if anyone’s seen his husband when he hears from behind him, “Ti ho cercato dappertutto, bambino.” _‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’_

And when Peter turns around he doesn’t even know what to say because all he sees on Tony’s head is the flower crown he made the man nearly _five_ years ago in ten minutes before they slept together for the first time and he didn’t even know until right this moment that Tony had kept it and _God,_ he didn’t know it was possible to love him anymore than he already did but, “fuck, I think I just fell in love with you all over again.”

Tony winks, a small chuckle escaping him as he asks, “does this mean I’m going to get lucky tonight? I was trying to be romantic, mi amore, but I’ll take what I can get.”

And now it’s Peter’s turn to chuckle and the devilish grin that he shoots Tony’s way is the only warning he gets before his husband is moving closer and palming his crotch and leaning up to whisper, “you can get very lucky, _daddy_ , let’s say our goodbyes and I’ll show you just how much.” The sentence is punctuated with a swipe of tongue across the sensitive spot just below Tony’s ear and yeah, he’s never cleared out a party faster or with less grace.

Peter’s a giggling mess on the other end of the garden by the time Tony’s ushered the last oblivious senior citizen out the door, but he abruptly cuts himself off when he sees the look in the older man’s eyes as he stalks toward him. He doesn’t know why he does it, what could possibly have possessed him to run out to the meadow and away from the comfort of their bedroom, but he does, and his dutiful husband gives chase. He can hear Tony laughing behind him as they run down the path, and he’s laughing too but he doesn’t stop until he hits the end of the path and Tony catches up to him, still panting as he wraps his arms around Peter from behind, nipping slightly at his ear and along his jaw.

“It’s cute that you thought you could run from me, principessa.”

“Wasn’t trying to run. Just wanted to make you work for it a little.”

"Oh, bambino, nemmeno immagini cosa ho intenzione di farti.” _‘you can’t even imagine what I’m going to do to you’_.

Peter turns around in Tony’s hold, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck as he says, “non vedo l'ora, mi amore.” _‘I look forward to it, my love’_.

“You do, hmm? Going to be a good boy for daddy tonight, going to be my pretty little wedding present?” Tony can’t help the grin that splits his face as he licks and sucks down the pale column of Peter’s neck, the whimpers that leave his mouth so predictable, because all this boy wants is to be good for daddy.

“Y-yes daddy. Got a- _ah,_ got present for you, back at the house.”

“Well you’ll just have to give it to me later, angelo. Because I want you right here, right now. Old times sake, hm?” He pulls back to look at Peter, wanting to make sure it’s okay, and sees the boy just staring at him, so he clarifies. “This meadow’s our place, sweetheart. Made love here for the first time, proposed here, only right that I should make you my husband here. What do you say, bambino? Va bene?” _‘is that okay?’_

“È meglio che va bene, mi amore.” _‘So much more than okay, my love’_.  Peter pulls Tony down for a kiss as the man starts undoing the buttons of his dress shirt because he doesn’t know how else to convey _God I love you so much, and I just fell in love with you all over again for like the sixth time today and you’re everything I’ve ever wanted but never thought I could have and I can’t believe this is real._

And then Tony’s laughing and Peter makes an indignant sound as the man pulls back, only to see the fond shake of his head and affectionate smile on his face as he says, “God, nearly five years and you still can’t tell when you say stuff out loud. But it is real, sweetheart. Very real. I’m yours and you’re mine and you have me, forever. No take backs.”

How Peter is now lying down on his husband’s $4000 Armani suit jacket, getting fingered open achingly slow, is something that he’s not quite sure of, the last few minutes having passed in a haze. All he knows is that Tony is trying to wreck him because he’s only up to two fingers and Peter feels so empty he can feel the tears pooling in his eyes, falling from the corners as he says, “Tony, oh daddy _please_ , I’m ready, I’m s-so ready. _Scopami_ , mi amore _,_ per favore. _Madre de dio, fuck me daddy please!”_

But Tony doesn’t remove his fingers, leaning down to whisper in his boy’s ear, “Oh, but sweetheart, I thought you were going to be good for me tonight. Don’t you wanna be good for daddy?”

Another whimper falls from those pretty pink lips as the beautiful boy writhes beneath him, “I do, daddy, _ohh_ , ‘m your good boy, I am. Just need you to fu- _ah,_ fuck me please.”

Tony nuzzles the boy’s neck, placing soft kisses against his jaw, continuing the slow movement of his fingers as he responds, “and daddy’s going to give you what you want, what you _need_ bambino. But you’re going to do something for me first.” He doesn’t give Peter a chance to cut him off, adding “you’re gonna come for me, bambino, just like this. My fingers in your ass, nothing else. Do this for me, and I’ll give you my cock. _Let go, principessa. Cum for daddy._ ”

Peter keens high in his throat as he releases, Tony working in a third finger alongside the two as he thoroughly milks the boy’s prostate, determined to wring every last ounce of pleasure from his body that he can. Peter’s soon whimpering with oversensitivity, but Tony keeps going, keeps fucking his fingers in and out, whispering, _you’re such a perfect boy for daddy, bellissimo, beautiful, bambino, God, the best thing that ever happened to me._ He keeps going until he sees his husband’s dick start to twitch, beginning to harden again, at which point he kisses down the younger man’s chest, licking up the stripes of cum that he can reach until he’s level with Peter’s cock.

There’s fluid already beading at the tip, from Peter’s last orgasm or an impending one is hard to tell. Tony sucks the head of Peter’s cock into his mouth, and his angel _wails_ , fucking his hips up in an effort to get his cock deeper into Tony’s mouth without a second thought, and the man is only too happy to indulge. He sucks and licks the boy’s length, taking him deep in his throat and swallowing around him before pulling back to tongue at the slit until incoherent pleas of _gonna cum, need to cum, daddy more please_ start to spill from above him, at which point he pulls back completely, releasing his husband’s now hard dick and withdrawing his fingers completely.

Peter lets out a choked sob, feeling so empty and bereft. But then he feels the comforting, solid weight of his husband above him, and Tony’s gripping his knees and pushing them up toward his shoulders and sinking into his entrance and Peter can’t help but sigh in relief because _this. This feels so right, this is_ everything.

And then Tony’s moving, fucking in and out of the wet heat below him with slow, deep thrusts. He wants this to last, but he also knows Peter’s close. He’s close too, the emotions and adrenaline from the day have him embarrassingly close to the edge already. “ _Christ_ bambino, sei così stretto come la prima volta, _‘you’re just as tight as the first time’_. Il mio perfetto bambino, _‘my perfect baby boy’_ , God you feel so _good_. Can you feel that, sweetheart? Feel your greedy little hole milking my cock for everything it’s worth? Well it’s yours, principessa, everything I have, everything I am, it’s yours.”

His husband is _mewling_ beneath him, precum steadily leaking from his flushed length and pooling beneath his navel, and the image is so blindingly beautiful Tony has to stop and squeeze the base of his dick, _hard_. Peter whines at the abrupt lack of movement, a “fuck daddy, _move_ ,” punctuated by a sharp thrust of the boy’s hips upward, and fuck, he can’t hold back anymore. He lets his grip on Peter’s ankles go, letting them drop to his shoulders and he grabs the slim hips beneath him and starts fucking into the boy roughly.

“Madre di dio, angelo, so _needy_. Don’t worry, daddy’s going to take care of you.” He changes the angle of his thrusts and Peter screams, his sensitive prostate getting nailed with every rough stroke of the older man’s cock. “Principessa, starai bene per me, sì? _‘you’re going to be good for me, yes?’_  Be good for me bambino, cum. Come for me so I can give your needy little hole what it needs. Uh uh, mi amore, did I say you could touch _my_ cock?” He matches the shake of Peter’s head with a sharp thrust of his cock, “that’s right, I didn’t. You can come for me like this, I know you can. You’ve done it before, and you can do it again. I’ve taken such good care of you, give me my wedding present now. _Paint yourself all pretty for me and cum, bambino_.”

Peter comes without a sound, mouth open wide in an O that has Tony growling before he thrusts his tongue into that sinful mouth, sucking on his husband’s tongue as he falls over the edge with him. The kiss moves from a thorough tongue fucking to a languid press of lips and teeth and tongue as they ride out the aftershocks of their orgasm together.

Tony rolls off of Peter and onto the jacket next to him, neither of them caring as the cum drips out from Peter’s hole, down his thighs and onto the jacket beneath, staining it with the evidence of the first round of their wedding night. Neither of them moves to get up, past experiences leaving them well aware that the meadow is perfectly safe to sleep in as Peter cuddles into Tony’s side, pressing a kiss to the same sensitive spot under his ear.

It’s warm enough that the only heat they need is each other, and as they drift off to sleep, Tony hears the, “Sei la luce dei miei occhi, daddy. ‘ _you are the light of my life’_. Amo solo te.”

“Amo solo te, mi amore. Amo solo te.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is starkerchemistry, come say hi! :)


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